A Blogfest For Me Berfday

EDIT: Blogfest now canceled due to some voracious, snarling creatures that have begun to close ranks around me...

As usual, when it came to the decision to host a blogfest, I was of two minds. One, I wanted to do something fun for zee berfday, which happens to be June 28. And B, I remember being intrigued by the idea of a cognitive dissonance (don't panic, the explanation is below) blogfest. I think, somehow, that Roland was involved in this conversation. Anyway, being of two minds, the natural answer was to present ye olde:


and do it just in time for my birthday. Rules iz simple, yo:

1. Sign your name across my heart below in the linky widget by June 28th.
2. Tell somebody about it, if you're so inspired. Dudes. I love link lurve!
3. Write your cognitive dissonance scene - I toldya, the explanation is beneath the linky thing.
4. Post your scene on June 28th, remembering to link back here in said scene post.
5. Hop your twisted minds back here on June 28th to read and comment on everyone's entries.
6. Make like Lady MacBeth and wash your hands to rid yourselves of all that cog diss anxiety :)

Wait - what's that, you ask? What in tarnation is cognitive dissonance? Oh, that's easy. It's just the "discomfort when self-image collides with reality." Like, you tell a lie but believe you're basically an honest person and now you're all skeeved out. Or you want something you'll never have - and have anxiety over it.

Or, say you're like me, a commie liberal. Say you're also, like me, a freelance writer/editor who does press kits for a coupla Simon & Schuster and Little, Brown imprints.

One day, you're asked to write up a press kit for a right wing pastor who basically calls Obama the Anti-Christ. You don't want to be a sell-out. But you value your clients and your raging objectivity. So you do a BANG. UP. FREAKIN. JOB. on the kit, and now must live with the little fishtail of anxiety that wiggles in your stomach. Yep, m'dears, that's cognitive dissonance. FUN STUFF, right?

I hope so. And in case you didn't click on my Terence Trent D'Arby link above, you must now be subjected to his 80s loveliness as punishment for your disobedience. What, you like Terence but feel guilty because you have an image to maintain? Ah, yes. Cog diss, man. Cog diss.